


Copper and Silver

by ZombieJesus



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Beyond is an imposter, L is a famed illusionist, M/M, Magical Realism, Magician AU, Obsession, Or is it the other way around?, real magic versus illusions, set in Paris in the late 1800s or early 1900s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieJesus/pseuds/ZombieJesus
Summary: There had always been two types of magic in the world. One was quite real but elusive, and more of a curse than a blessing on those who could channel it. The other was the magic of mankind-- the sleight of hand or memory trick, the careful distraction or well-placed mirror. It was the business of the famed illusionist Lazarus, also (un)known as L Lawliet, that no one in his audience should ever know the difference.
Relationships: Beyond Birthday/L
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32
Collections: Sexy Enquirer





	Copper and Silver

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Copper and silver’ is the name of a magic trick, using coins.

There had always been two types of magic in the world. One was quite real but elusive, and more of a curse than a blessing on those who could channel it. The other was the magic of mankind– the sleight of hand or memory trick, the careful distraction or well-placed mirror. It was the business of the famed illusionist Lazarus, also (un)known as L Lawliet, that no one in his audience should ever know the difference. 

He’d been selling out his shows across Europe for nearly a decade, and from the Thames to the Danube, just the name of Lazarus invoked an aura of mystery and awe. He’d been invited to most of the major courts to amuse the nobility of the continent despite his own very humble birth. Not that anyone knew anything true about his origins; L’s backstory as the exiled bastard son of a Russian prince was his most carefully cultivated illusion. 

The vast majority of people who came to see him desperately wanted to believe in real magic to dull the edge of life’s mundane reality. This made them easy to fool with clever devices of his own invention. A lemon tree that seemed to grow from a seed before their eyes, sawing someone in half who was then put back together again unharmed, submerging himself in chains underwater only to escape at the last dramatic moment. Although each of his tricks did in fact have an explanation rooted in reality, competitors, skeptics, and scientists had all attempted to parse out the mechanisms to explain his illusions and all had left disappointed. 

L had not always believed in ‘real’ magic himself, but he’d never needed to. There’d never been any odd phenomenon he couldn’t eventually provide with a reasonable explanation. He considered himself a man of science and rationality, not someone who was willing to suspend disbelief for the sake of entertainment. He knew he was brilliant, and no one could be a better skeptic than he was of his own performances. Thus, his performances were inscrutable perfection start to end, each trick a thread for the audience to weave their own pretty blindfold with. 

But it took the eyes of a fake magician to know the real thing when he saw it, down a rainy street in Paris the afternoon before a show. He’d forgotten his umbrella, as usual, and had been darting from one sheltered overhang to another on his way back to his hotel when he saw a curious hand-painted board pointing down an oil lamp-lit alleyway. It was nearly as tall as he was, and upon it was crudely scrawled:

**~HAVE YOUR MISFORTUNES TOLD BY LAZARUS~**

**For one silver franc, the Incredible Lazarus will answer the following:**

**\- Your real and true name! (Great for orphans or just anyone who forgot!)**

**\- The day you will die! (Get your affairs in order!)**

**\- Whether anyone in a picture lives or is deceased, as well as their name! (Like deadbeat parents, runaway spouses, or** **people lost at sea!)**

**\- If you need a bath! (Free of charge!)**

**Guaranteed to be 100% accurate and true or twice your money back! (proof required)**

Usually, L would roll his eyes at low-brow hucksters like this and be on his way, but this time was different. This time, someone had purloined his good name and was using it for cheap tricks! Anger and irritation bubbled up in him as he spied the queue to get into a door in the alley, but it was matched with a good dose of curiosity, too. Who in their right mind would so brazenly advertise these services when everyone knew the REAL Lazarus was in town and performing just down the street? The easy thing to do would be to announce at his own show later that this was just a fraud, an imitator, or simply ignore it altogether as the price of fame. 

No, L needed to see this for himself, confront the man. He walked towards the door, ignoring the line-up and grabbing a newspaper out someone’s hand to use as a makeshift umbrella. 

“Oi! I was reading that!” The man glared at L in surprise. 

“I’ll return it shortly.”

“Wha, sopping wet?!” The man pointed to the back of the queue. “And the line starts back–” He cut off abruptly to catch something L tossed his way, gaping down at a gold coin. He tested it with his teeth, piping down after that. 

When L got to the front of the line he announced, “Time for everyone to go home. This man is a fraud and not the true Lazarus. I am.” 

“We’ve been waiting for an hour or more! Prove it!” The rest of the people chanted ‘Prove it! Prove it’ until L held up a finger and suddenly, the rain stopped. Amid their awed silence, he deftly folded the wet newspaper into an origami crane which he perched on his hand. He blew on it and it caught fire, the flame changing from white to blue as it floated away down the alley. The crowd parted to let it pass and then broke into an uproar of clapping and cheers as it exploded into a burst of sparks in the shape of an L. 

“How’d he do that?!”

“He MUST be the real Lazarus!” 

L slouched forward slightly in an approximation of a bow. What had seemed like magic to them was nothing more than noticing a break in the clouds and improvising, and a bit of phosphorus dust artfully sprinkled from his ring onto the wet paper. “Now, if you’ll all check your pockets, I believe you’ll find tickets to my show tonight. I invite you all as my guests.” It wasn’t really in his nature to give things away for free, or to be so polite, but he’d learned when being the showman Lazarus versus L Lawliet would get him his way the quickest.

The man who’d had his newspaper snatched hung back a moment as the others meandered away, smiling and excited. He thumbed at the closed door behind L, “Another coin and I’ll give that fraud a thrashin’ for ya.”

“No.” L turned and opened the door, stepping aside quickly as a woman in tears bustled past him. 

From further inside came the call, “Well, you asked!” followed by some soft cackling. “Next!”

L pressed a thumb to his bottom lip as he brushed aside a ratty tasseled curtain, his already large pupils widening to near blackness to adjust to the flickering candlelight. The darkness partially hid the ramshackle state of the room, and exotic-looking but cheap carpets were flung around to hide the rest. When he approached a table set in the middle of the room, L had to check that he wasn’t looking into a mirror. But no, his mirror image was seated and grinning like the cat that had caught the canary. 

“There’s not going to be anyone else.” L climbed into the opposite chair, perching in it as he was his habit when he wasn’t performing. “I sent them away.” He quickly scrutinized the man, looking for flaws in the disguise. They were approximately the same age, mid-20s, of similar built and features, although artful makeup and posture must be contributing to the effect. 

“Well, well, well…” Beyond Birthday gracefully moved into the same crouching position, mimicking each of L’s movements with precision but allowing his eyes to flick briefly above L’s head. “That was a very _rude_ thing to do, don’t you think? I guess they all got soggy for nothing.”

“Stealing a person’s name and pretending to be them is what strikes me as rude.” L tilted his head, frowning when the imposter did the same. 

“A man’s gotta eat.” Beyond’s grin didn’t falter as he modulated his voice closer to L’s timbre and pitch. “And I wasn’t stealing it so much as…borrowing it. I suppose you can have it back now.” He had what he wanted– L’s presence and undivided attention at last. 

“I don’t appreciate it being stolen OR borrowed.” L squinted in the darkness, both unnerved and impressed by the exactness of this imitation. Fraud or not, this mysterious man had real skill in makeup and impersonation. “Who are you really?” 

“Why I’m Lazarus of course! Didn’t you read the sign?” Beyond laughed at the annoyed look on L’s face, finally breaking his mimicry and lounging back in his patched armchair with a sigh, one leg thrown over the side. He stared for a moment then said with a flourish, “I’m a fan.” He twirled his fingers and produced a silver franc, letting it flip over his knuckles like the flow of water. “A performer like yourself, although not quite so famous. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time.” He tossed the coin high into the air, but it didn’t come down again.

“And now that you have, will you kindly get lost?” Even as L said the words, he wasn’t sure he meant them. Something about this man was fascinating. And where did that damned coin go? He looked up at the ceiling and saw nothing, and the man’s hands were both empty. “Cheap parlor trick. Open your mouth.” He didn’t want to admit he hadn’t seen the sleight of hand, even if he knew the coin must be there. 

Beyond extended his tongue, revealing the coin sitting right on it. He spat it into a box containing a few more coins. “Very good. But of course, I doubt I could stump the _real_ Lazarus.” 

The way those words were spoken sounded like a challenge to L, and he’d been here before. Countless other illusionists and street magicians had challenged him and become laughingstocks. “No, I doubt very much that you could.” 

“Hmmm.” Beyond leaned forward, elbows on the table as he stared. “Would you give me the chance to try?” He kept his eyes on L but swiped his hand over the flames of the candelabra beside them, appearing to transfer one flame to his finger where it burned a moment before he blew it out. 

“You dipped your nail in oil. It didn’t burn long enough to blacken it.” L raised an eyebrow when Beyond chuckled and nodded. “I hope you have better tricks than that.” He sincerely did hope that, because this was already more amusing than he’d expected, although his deadpan expression didn’t show it. 

“Oh, I do. Such wonders as you’ve never seen before.” Beyond snapped his fingers, his nail aflame again, and he transferred the fire back to the dormant candle. “If I can’t stump you, I’ll ‘get lost’ and you’ll never hear from me again. Does that suit you? A little wager between magicians.” 

“A wager?” L smiled for the first time since coming into this dismal hovel. “Just so you know, no one’s ever been able to stump me. I’ve seen it all.” He worried his lip with his thumb, unconsciously leaning forward, betraying his interest and excitement at a game. “Debunked them all and taken their tricks, improved them for my own.”

“You can’t take my tricks.” Beyond knew that for a fact. He was unique among all humans, if he was even human, in his abilities. “But I’d _love_ to see you try.” 

He traced his long fingernails over the battered table, watching L’s thumb brush back and forth across slightly parted lips and wishing to touch them. Yes, he was a ‘fan’ of Lazarus, but it was so much more than that. An obsession, a yearning to be Lazarus. It was so unfair that he, someone with real supernatural powers, should always be in the shadow of just a clever illusionist. Beyond had been L’s actual shadow for years, never making himself known as he followed in the wake of show after show. Trying to make enough money for cheap flophouses and tickets for every performance, hiding in the back of the balcony but watching with eyes where distance didn’t matter. And when there hadn’t been money, he’d stolen. When people had tried to hurt or rob him, he’d killed. Beyond had given everything for this one moment. 

“You seem quite confident. In that case, what do you get if you manage to stump me?” L had zero expectations that anything like that could ever happen, but he wanted to be aware of the game’s rules.

Beyond pulled a deck of cards from his jacket and shuffled them in one hand, focusing on keeping his breathing slow and even as he held L’s gaze. Softly, “To be your apprentice.” 

“My apprentice?” L laughed, letting his hands rest on top of his crouching knees. “Everyone knows I take no apprentices. I have no desire to train amateurs or tell my secrets.” 

Beyond purred, “But do you desire to hear them? I can tell you secrets even you don’t know about yourself. Or ones you’ve desperately kept hidden from others.”

L was past being intrigued now, he was hooked. It didn’t help that the man’s languorous, cat-like body language was so very seductive, his gaze so intense. It was rare for L to find anyone with as much self-confidence as he had, and this man had a natural bravado that L had to work for on stage. In fact, the longer L looked, the more differences he noticed between them. The soft swell of muscles hidden beneath clothing slightly too large, hair of a silkier texture, eyes that were a pale blue instead of his own grey. He swallowed when his scrutiny was rewarded with a smirk. “I agree to your wager. But first, tell me your name.” 

Beyond wet his lips and whispered, “No. But I’ll tell you yours.” He glanced down at the coin box seriously. “Pay the fee.”

L stared unblinking, unbelieving, but pulled out the same trick ‘gold’ coin he’d given the man in the street and taken back furtively. 

When L tried to put it in the box, Beyond covered it with his hand. “No copper. The real thing.”

L’s eyes narrowed and he pulled his hand back, pocketing the trick coin and reluctantly flipping a real silver one into the box with a soft clink. He sighed, “So?” 

Beyond smiled looked above L’s head once more, not that he hadn’t read these words a thousand times already. “L Lawliet. Although the pronunciation eludes me. Do you say it in the French way, mon cher?” He smiled and sounded it out a few ways, giving up with a little shrug.

L felt like his heart had stopped beating from the shock of what he’d heard. His mouth was agape, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. “How….” Absolutely no one knew his real name. He’d spent a small fortune to find it out himself, buried at the bottom of the rubble of the London workhouse for orphans he’d grown up in. His birth certificate, locked in a well-hidden safe at his house in Surrey, was the only document in existence with that name printed. That safe hadn’t been opened in 10 years.

“Ah! Are you stumped then?” Beyond eyed him greedily, breath coming quicker. He didn’t even need to declare he was right. He’d never been wrong, even when people tried to insist he was. The truth was always written on their faces. 

“No! You…you must have hired a private investigator.” L’s brow knitted, because that didn’t make sense and he knew it. “Someone in London told you. ”

“Does it _look_ like I have the funds to hire an investigator, Mr. Lawliet?” Beyond gestured around at the bleak surroundings. “But if you remain unconvinced….show me a picture of someone. I’ll tell you their name as well, and if they live.” Telling L the day he would die was something else he could do, but what a morbid way to start a partnership. Plus, L had plenty of life left and no reason to believe him. Inclining his head to the box, “Pay the fee.”

L let out a shaky breath and reached into his coat to produce a cheap locket. His mother had given it to him at the workhouse before she’d died of pneumonia, and it contained pictures of his parents. He pried it open and laid it on the table, flipping another silver coin into the box. “Tell me about them.”

Beyond pulled the locket across the table and stared at the pictures of the man and woman inside. These were no Russian nobles, no princes. They were plain, simply-dressed folk who looked older than their probable years and had no death dates above their heads. “Martha Briggs, maiden name. Henry Lawliet. Both deceased.” He lifted his eyes to L’s as he slid the locket back. “Sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.” His fingers briefly brushed L’s and lingered before pulling away. “Your parents.”

“Yes.” L picked up the locket in pinched fingers and carefully put it back in his jacket. He’d never known his mother’s maiden name but all the rest was correct, although he had no idea how. He went quiet as he considered what to do. It was a first, being unable to discern the trick, and all the possible scenarios that cycled through his mind were dismissed just as fast. Only one actual explanation remained but he was loathe to say it. How could it be _that_? 

“Have I won then, Mr. Lawliet?” Beyond wasn’t sneering or gloating, but soft and sincere. He knew that all L had to do was refuse to keep his promise and all of this, everything he’d done to be in this room, would have been for nothing. 

A long silence passed between them as they stared at one another across the table. “You have real magic.” L couldn’t keep the puzzlement off his face. He’d spent his whole life creating the illusion of magic in opulent ballrooms and the parlors of royalty, and had he finally found it buried in a rat hole? It was ironic and tragic that no one could tell the difference but him, but Lazarus. Who was the real fraud?

Beyond’s face crumpled, “Is that your answer then? Real magic?” No no no! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! He’d never believed that a skeptic like L, who knew so many tricks and manmade artifices, would choose the most improbable answer. Unfortunately, it was also correct. 

“Yes. That is my answer.” 

Beyond made an angry, frustrated sound and leaped up from his chair but stopped in his tracks, floundering. He wanted to run but where would he go? The majority of his adolescence and adulthood had been focused on L, following L, trying to get close to L and failing. Now that he finally had his chance, _he’d_ failed. He turned away and clutched his hair, whispering, “Correct. You win. I’ll leave Paris tonight and you’ll never hear from me again.” 

L hummed to himself, uncurling from his crouch and slowly stepped closer to the distraught man. “Are you joking?” He touched the man’s shoulder, gently turning him around so they faced each other. “Do you think I’d walk away from real magic? You’re a unicorn.” L smiled and brushed the man’s cheek, fingers trailing along his jaw. He’d never touched anything magical before and it thrilled him. “A unicorn that had to pretend to be a horse pretending to be a unicorn. But I can see it.” 

The black kohl around Beyond’s eyes used to approximate L’s eyebags was smeared and running down his face, his blue eyes brighter for his tears. He gazed back at L in amazement, finally sniffling and giving him a little smile. “So does that make you a horse?” He leaned into L’s touch, eyes lidding and not entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating now. “Or maybe just an ass.” Beyond’s eyes flew open as he realized what he’d said, but L was just laughing and nodding. “S-sorry, my mouth can run away with me and—”

“I’ve been called worse.” L’s fingertips traced along the man’s mouth, his heart hammering for a different reason. He wanted to know this magic, this man, and felt an electricity between them that only two of a kind could. “But I can’t call you ‘unicorn.’ What’s your name?” 

“Beyond.” He whispered it reverently, closing his eyes and taking the chance to kiss L’s fingers at his lips. What did he have to lose now? His ‘trick’ was exposed. “Beyond Birthday. It’s a stupid name.” 

L’s hand threaded into Beyond’s hair and the noise he was rewarded with made him shiver, made his pants uncomfortably tight. Was this feeling some kind of magic too? He’d never felt such a powerful attraction. “It’s a name that would look perfect next to mine on a poster.” Lazarus and Beyond….it had a certain ring to it. "But you shouldn’t hide yourself under all this makeup.” He tentatively pressed closer, bending to kiss Beyond’s neck which tilted for him instinctively. “Hmm, we could work that into some good tricks, couldn’t we?” He pressed his hips against Beyond, smiling as he felt the man’s body jerk at the realization, the feeling. “Like swapping out coins, but…us.”

Beyond inhaled audibly, wrapping his arms around L’s body as he melted into this perfect dream. His idol, his everything, wanted him too? Accepted him? “But…” He quickly shrugged off his jacket when he felt L’s fingers start to unbutton his shirt. “…you said you don’t take apprentices.” He mentally cursed himself for not just shutting up. Why couldn’t he just enjoy this and not ruin everything?

L raised his head, “True, I don’t.” Before the stricken look on Beyond’s face could sink in, he added, “But I’d take a partner.” The voracious kiss that followed made L stumble back against the table edge with a grin, hidden pockets spilling their contents as their clothes were hastily pulled away. A trick wand clattered to the floor and bloomed into a rose, a crystal box of fireflies sprung open and let its luminescent prisoners flit about the room blinking.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.” Beyond kissed him deeply again, lifting L onto the table. His hands caressed L’s body like he was afraid the man might break open too, releasing doubts and regrets, second thoughts. “Years I’ve waited to talk to you.” Beyond made magic for others, magic never happened for him. But those doubts didn’t come even when L did open for him, parting his legs and wrapping them around his waist.

L laid back against the table to gaze up at Beyond, amazed that he’d ever thought they looked alike now that they were naked and the makeup had been largely kissed and rubbed away. “I’ve waited all my life for magic.” He smiled and pulled Beyond closer, finally really understanding what his audience had been paying to see. It wasn’t just entertainment or amusement or distraction from their lives. It was hope that even if what was in front of them was only a horse, there might be a unicorn out there somewhere. “The real thing."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 2019/2020 Sexy Enquirer Exchange on tumblr. I'd been wanting to write a Magician AU for Death Note for quite some time and thought it fit this ship when I got a B/L prompt. Inspiration from the movies The Prestige, The Illusionist, and The Last Unicorn.


End file.
